


winter wind

by Chokingonholywater



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 01:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20827058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chokingonholywater/pseuds/Chokingonholywater
Summary: Failure. One short, simple word, and that was all it had taken for Moritz's entire life to finally come crashing down.





	winter wind

“Failure.”

The word echoed aimlessly in Moritz’s head, an endless cacophony that he couldn’t escape. It crashed around his skull, waves of guilt and shame and a hatred so strong he knew it could only be for himself burning with it.

One simple word, and yet it was all it took for everything to come crashing down.

Moritz stopped walking, sinking to the ground. He couldn’t find it in himself to care that he was in the snow - it wasn’t like it was going to matter for long. He could feel it biting into his bare hands, beginning to soak through his pants. The burning in his chest warred with the cold all around him, leading to a sort of buzzing nothingness that he was sure had no name.

“Failure.”

The word was there again, and he could feel the phantom pain of his father’s hand on his cheek. He fisted his hands in his hair, pulling hard enough that the pain brought tears to his eyes. His body was wracked with sobs so strong that he shook as he leaned forward into the snow.

The cold air whipped around him, slipping through the cracks of his winter coat and slicing its way into his lungs. He felt like his chest was being crushed under an enormous weight, like it was impossible for him to breathe in without pain shooting through him like a knife.

“Failure.”

He could hardly breathe, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t need to worry about breathing anymore very shortly. Not for much longer.

After another minute of sobbing in the snow, Moritz forced himself to breathe. There was no point in waiting any longer - no reason to keep crying there in the snow, all alone.

“I’m ready,” he breathed, mostly to himself. “I’m ready. I’ll be an angel.” His voice felt detached to his own ears, the word “angel” rolling off his tongue with a broken kind of beauty.

He swiped a cold hand under his nose, trying to clean himself up. He forced his body to take in the freezing air, wiped his eyes as best he could.

He already felt pathetic enough. He didn’t need it to be so clear that he’d been crying to whoever found him.

With a shallow breath, he plunged a hand into his coat pocket. The metal was cold to the touch, and he felt goosebumps spring up along his arms. His curled his fingers, almost as cold as the metal they grasped, around the gun and pulled it from his pocket, marveling at how white and bloodless his fingers looked in comparison to the dark, shining metal of the pistol.

He wondered if that was how he would look later; pale skin again a dark suit, no blood pumping through his veins.

Moritz took another shaky breath, willing himself not to cry. He felt a sudden peace wash over him, as though his brain knew it couldn’t sway him. There was no more point to the theatrics of pain when he’d already made up his mind to go, and it suddenly seemed like his body knew that.

Holding the gun gingerly in one hand, Moritz raked the other through his snow dusted hair. He swiped it along his eyes again, and then under his nose. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the gun in his hands, the glint of it mesmerizing him.

He almost laughed at the thought now, but it was like a twisted version of what he’d felt in his dreams.

God. Had it really been only a few weeks ago that he’d gone to Melchior, trembling and frightened, over that “dark phantasm”? He let out a strangled laugh, wishing that was the only darkness he had to deal with. Things had been so much simpler then - or, at least, he hadn’t been here, on the brink of destruction.

Moritz let out a soft breath, looking up at the sky in pain. He was surprised to see that the sky was dark, much darker than it had been last time he’d looked. Much too dark to navigate his way home now.

“My god,” he breathed, voice barely escaping his lips. “Ten minutes ago, you could see the entire horizon,” he said, fighting to keep his voice from dissolving into sobs again.

“Now —“ his voice caught in his throat, a sob that he was too far gone to feel.

“Now,” he tried again, forcing himself to get the words out, “only the dusk - the first few stars,” he mumbled, eyes straining against the dark sky for the flecks of light.

He tore his eyes away from the stars and focused on the gun, growing slick in his nervous hand. He gingerly wrapped his other hand around the first, cold fingers feeling almost nothing. As if he were dead already, he couldn’t help but think.

“So dark,” he mumbled, glancing up at the sky again.

“So dark,” he repeated, wrenching his hand away from the gun and through his hair one last time.

He forced himself to still, then, and to grab the gun firmly. He cocked it, shivering, though from the gun or the cold, he couldn’t say. He took one last, deep, breath, adjusting his finger nervously.

It was now or never.

“So dark,” he echoed finally, heavily, jamming the gun against the soft flesh under his jaw.

He pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this months ago and didnt plan on posting it, but i stumbled on it again and decided i might as well, thanks for reading :')


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